Mhmm cherry flavor, Want A Taste?

🍨 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒔

scoops of trouble, served fresh.

🍃 mint chocolate chip — lion kaminski › rough sweetness, strong bite, melts slow but hits hard.

🍓 strawberry — remmick › red on your tongue, sugar that stains, bites back.

🥭 mango — patrick sumner › soft at first taste, heat underneath, leaves you sticky.

🍦 neapolitan — james cook › chaos of three layers: sweet, filthy, unpredictable.

🍫 chocolate — roy goode › smooth, rich, makes a mess you don’t mind licking clean.

🍯 butterscotch — oliver mellors › golden warmth, slow drizzle, melts over every word.

🍬 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒖 ˚

list of all sizes & toppings !

🍡 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

a little guide to help you find your way around the creamery ♡

🍥 ⋆⁺₊❅. 𝒃𝒙𝒙𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋆.˚

→ the full flavor board—all fics, specials, and scoops in one place.

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→ rambles, updates, thoughts, and sugar-sweet nonsense.

🍥 ⋆⁺₊❅. 𝒃𝒙𝒙𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 ⋆.˚

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☕ 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

"thank you for visiting the creamery ♡ come back soon—we’re always adding new flavours."

your legs are splayed wide at the edge of the mattress, trembling, toes curled against the sheets as remmick stands over you—one hand wrapped tight around the base of his cock, the other gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise.

he’s panting. leaking. the swollen head of his cock glides slick over your cunt with every stroke, smearing precum across your clit until you’re whining and twitching under him, body jerking with every pass.

“look at you,” he growls, voice rough and low as he tightens his grip and strokes faster. “fuckin’ soaked just from me rubbin’ off on you like this.”

you whimper when the fat tip bumps your clit again—harder this time. he grins, watching how your thighs shake, how your breath hitches, how your hips roll toward the friction like you’re chasing it. greedy for it.

“so needy,” he spits, thumbing the head of his cock and dragging it slow over your puffy slit, teasing your clit until it’s swollen. “bet you want me to fuck you open with it, huh?”

his hand moves faster—filthy, wet sounds filling the space between your legs as he strokes himself with obscene intent, slicked up and twitching. your clit throbs each time he brushes it, and you swear you’re close—just from that. just from him jerking off over your cunt like you’re his favorite fucktoy.

“gonna mark this sweet pussy,” he groans, jaw tight, eyes locked on your cunt like it’s his altar. “paint it up—show everyone who the fuck you belong to.”

you can feel the way his cock pulses in his hand, the way the head flares right before—and then he groans. long and guttural, like it’s being ripped from his chest.

his cock jerks once, twice—and then it spills.

hot, thick ropes of cum shoot across your cunt—striping your clit, your folds, your lower belly. it’s warm and messy and fucking endless. he doesn’t stop. keeps stroking, slower now, like he’s savoring it, milking every drop. the head drags through the mess he’s made, spreading it over you like warpaint, pushing it into your folds until you’re dripping with it.

“look at you,” he rasps, voice rough. “fuckin’ ruined. soaked in me.”

you’re shaking. overstimulated from nothing but the way he’s used your cunt as a canvas, your clit twitching under the head of his cock.

he grins, slow and amused. “don’t worry, sweetheart,” he mutters, crouching down, “i’ll clean you up. i wanna taste it off you anyway.”

you’re still twitching. still dripping. his spend clings to your folds in thick, milky strings, smeared across your clit and pooling between your lips. the mess of it glistens in the low light, obscene and raw, and you swear you can feel it—cooling, sticky, leaking down toward your ass.

remmick watches it like a man possessed.

“fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, low and guttural. “look at this filthy cunt. all marked up, just how i like it.”

he drops to his knees between your thighs, spreading them wider with both hands. you gasp when his thumbs press into the soft insides of your thighs—forcing you open, exposing everything. his breath ghosts over your core, and your whole body clenches with anticipation.

then his tongue is on you.

no warning. no softness. just the hot, wet drag of it straight through the mess—lapping up his own cum like it’s dessert. he groans the second it hits his tongue, hips grinding subconsciously against the edge of the bed like he’s getting off on the taste alone.

“mmph—fuck, that’s filthy,” he groans into your cunt. “tastes like me. like you. fuckin’ ruined.”

his mouth is messy from the start—slurping and sucking, tongue flicking fast over your clit, then dipping low to lap up every drop of his spend from your folds. it’s filthy. wet noises echo off the walls, punctuated by your gasps, your whines, the breathless stammer of his name between your moans.

you feel his spit mix with the cum, his tongue spreading it deeper, licking it out of you like he can’t waste a drop. and then—then—he closes his lips around your clit and sucks.

your back arches violently. your hand flies to his hair, gripping tight, but he doesn’t let up. he moans into you, tongue working in tight, rapid circles as his nose presses into your mound, chin soaked with spit and slick and his own cum.

he pulls back only to spit—right on your clit—before licking it up, groaning like it’s driving him insane.

“you’re fuckin’ addictive,” he pants, breath ragged. 

you’re close. so close. your thighs are trembling around his head, your stomach tight, your clit throbbing under the ruthless attention of his mouth.

“go on, baby,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “come for me like this—drippin’ in me, suckin’ me in with every fuckin’ twitch. want you to come with my mess still on you.”

he latches back onto your clit, relentless now. tongue flicking, lips sucking, fingers digging into your thighs to hold you open as you cry out—your orgasm crashing over you like fire.

your whole body seizes. you’re gasping, moaning, your hips bucking into his face as he keeps going—lapping you through it, licking up every last drop that leaks out with your climax, making it filthier.

he doesn’t stop until you’re twitching from overstimulation, babbling his name, begging for mercy.

even then—he licks one last stripe up your slit, groaning low in his throat.

“gonna keep doin’ this,” he murmurs against your ruined cunt. “every fuckin’ night. ‘til this pussy don’t remember anything but me.”

© ⋆⁺₊❅. 𝒃𝒙𝒙𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒆 | don’t copy, repost, or translate ! ⋆.˚

You gave Lion a nasty habit that he can’t break. 

To be fair, it was entirely your fault. 

Whenever Lion won a match— his nose bloody and his fist cramping from overuse— you can always find him tucked between your legs, his tongue working its way through your folds like a man starved. 

He asked you one day if he could do more, His soft eyes and low chants of “please, I promise it’ll be good.” mixed in with his fingers rubbing soothing circles against your skin is what got you. 

He looked so cute, peering at you with his long lashes, eyes pleading like a puppy. He was so convincing— perhaps too convincing. 

So, you made a small bet.  You told him that if he won the next match, with no bruises and no hits from the other opponent, he could do whatever he wanted. 

You shouldn’t have done that. 

The match ended with the opponent having a broken jaw and a black eye. You've never seen Lion do so much damage— pure determination in His footing.

The moment you got home, climbed up the stairs to your bedroom— he had you walking backwards to the bed. His mouth on yours and his fingers working your shorts open— 

That was a few weeks ago.

For some reason,  Lion had it in his head that every single match he won— same rules, same regulations— his reward was getting to eat you out. 

He won a match with a single blow, a full K.O. that left the crowd stunned. It was a small tournament and Lion won first place, the reward? 

Five hundred dollars and a free coupon for a restaurant nearby. 

Stan took the money, which was fine— cool even. 

All Lion wanted was his reworded in the form of your sweet juicy cunt. 

Who was going to stop him?

Not you. Apparently. 

Lion sucked your clit into his mouth, his hands holding your legs wide open so he could push his face in deeper. He wanted to hear those sweet sounds you kept making. That low, warm, gasp that you did just before you start to whine that you're close. 

Usually, he would let up, pull back to give you a breather but Lion was feeling lucky today. 

Your fingers buried themselves inside of his hair, pulling the strands when you felt his teeth graze against your clit.

“Lion, Lion Im—“

”I know baby, hold it in f’me.” He said against your cunt, “Almost there, you're doing so good.” he praised and it went straight into your cunt. 

His fingers were completely fucked up, crooked, and sore but that won’t stop him from sliding them into your soaked cunt and just ramming it in. He’ll worry about bandaging them later— he needed to feel you cream around his fingers.

He starts to suck your clit back into his mouth again, pushing himself forward so he can bury his nose into soft, coarse, hair. You taste so good on his tongue, your legs squeezing tighter around his head could make him come in his pants alone. 

Anything you did could make him come undone. 

He isn’t ashamed to admit it anymore. 

“Shit, Shit, Shit—“ you cried out, hips bucking forward against your will. Fingers threading in his hair, pulling, straining your fingers until they turned white. 

Lion groaned, eyes shut, fingers still working— mind growing hazy with pure happiness. 

A particular tug against your sensitive bundle makes your vision go wet and you come on his fingers, your pussy clamping down in rapid succession– voice high-pitched like a whistle—

 And then nothing. 

Lion always knows when you're done when he feels your hands go lax, legs no longer shaking and your voice completely silent. 

He brings his head up to inspect the damage, finding a lazy smile on your lips and your eyes half lidded. 

“H-How was that?” He asked, licking his lips. 

“Perfect…” you said low, your mind clear and all thoughts thrown out the window. 

“Good, cause I’m not done yet.” He breathed, petting your clit with the pad of his thumb before diving back in,  mouth on your cunt again— fingers pumping in and out.

Your legs go back to squeezing around his head, your hands pulling at the sheets underneath you. 

Lucky you.

you’re already shaking before you even sit, thighs trembling as you hover over his face—breath caught, fingers tightening in his hair as you try to lower yourself slow, cautious, unsure if you can even handle it.

but he’s got no patience for teasing. his hands slide up the backs of your thighs, rough palms curling into the softness, and with one sharp yank—he drags you down flush.

his mouth finds you instantly.

he groans like a man possessed, tongue licking broad and greedy through the slick already spilling from you, lips parting to suck, to slurp, to taste every drop.

it’s wet. loud. obscene. the kind of sound that makes your spine arch and your toes curl before his tongue even does anything proper.

his mouth locks on like he’s starving, like he’s needed this for days. tongue dragging up your slit with slow, reverent pressure before flicking hard against your clit, and again, and again, until your whole body shudders.

“so fuckin’ sweet,” he mutters, slurred and desperate between licks, his voice muffled by spit and your cunt. “fuckin’ meltin’ on my tongue, babe—jesus, i could eat this all day.”

you don’t answer. you can’t.

your head drops back, mouth parted in a silent cry as your hips twitch against his face—each flick of his tongue pulling out raw little gasps, hiccupped whines, high-pitched moans that crack as they leave you.

he’s not gentle with it. he devours you. tongue plunging, then curling, then lapping in slow, lazy circles that make your thighs clench around his head.

and he loves it.

cook groans again, a deep, wrecked sound, and you glance down—barely managing to lift your head—just in time to see him rutting up into his own hand. his jeans are still on, but his palm’s grinding up hard against the bulge in his crotch, desperate and rough, like he can’t not touch himself while he’s got your cunt smeared across his tongue.

his eyes flutter. his lashes are damp. his whole face is shiny with spit and slick and need.

“drippin’ for me,” he breathes, pausing just long enough to kiss your clit like it’s something sacred. “messy little thing, ain’t you? makin’ such a fuckin’ mess on my face.”

your thighs tighten, hips rolling helplessly against his mouth, and his nose nudges your clit just right—firm, unrelenting, the pressure of it nearly cruel.

you sob. actually sob, voice cracking as you grind yourself down harder.

“go on then,” he pants, voice wrecked, one hand sliding up to smack your ass before grabbing a fistful. “fuckin’ soak me. wanna drown in it—give it to me, yeah? i want it.”

you don’t last after that. not even a minute.

you break apart in sharp, stuttering waves, moaning so loud it bounces off the walls, your hands yanking his hair as you grind down like you’re trying to crawl inside his mouth. you’re gasping. twitching. pulsing against his tongue like your body can’t stop coming.

and he moans through it, loud and open-mouthed and filthy, never pulling back, never slowing down.

you can feel him shaking beneath you.

his hand works over his cock faster, hips twitching as he fucks into his palm. his eyes are locked on you—wild, starved, in awe of the way you fall apart just for him.

and then he comes.

without even taking it out, without skin-to-skin, without anything but the weight of you on his tongue and the taste of your orgasm smearing across his lips—he groans so hard his whole chest shakes, his hips jerking up as he spills in his jeans, messy and shuddering beneath you like he’s never felt anything better.

his mouth doesn’t stop. even as he pants through it. even as his thighs tremble.

he just keeps eating.

hungrier.

his grip tightens around your thighs, nails biting into your skin as he drags you back down, burying his face even deeper, nose pressed right against your swollen clit.

you whimper—already too sensitive, already spent—but he doesn’t let up.

“still fuckin’ leakin’,” he mutters, voice thick, almost delirious with it. his tongue drags long and slow through your mess, then flicks—sharp and fast—right over your clit. again. and again.

you cry out, thighs jerking, but he just groans like your reaction gets him off all over again.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you squirm,” he says, breath warm against your cunt. “give me another one, yeah? i know you got more for me.”

you try to shake your head, try to lift your hips, but he holds you there, unmovable. his mouth closes around your clit, sucking hard and wet and perfect.

you sob. your legs shake.

every flick of his tongue sends a new jolt through your core—your whole body on fire, nerves lit up and buzzing. it’s too much, but also not enough.

your voice cracks as you plead, babble, try to form words that don’t make sense—

“c-cook, i—fuck, i can’t—please, s’too much—”

but he just moans into you.

“c’mon,” he rasps, licking deeper, sloppier. “make a fuckin’ mess on me again.”

and you do.

with a broken cry, your body locks up—hips stuttering, hands fisting the sheets, thighs clamping tight around his head as another orgasm crashes through you, sharp and fast and blinding.

he groans like he lives for it. like you’re feeding him.

your legs give out before you even realize it.

one shaky roll to the side, and you collapse half off him, landing in a heap on the bed with your cheek pressed to the sheets—slick thighs still twitching, cunt still pulsing, everything soaked and sensitive and ruined.

he lets you go this time. lets you slump down, boneless and wrecked, panting beside him like you just got dragged through a storm.

he’s still beneath you, lying on his back now, shirt rumpled, jeans sticky and unzipped.

and he’s licking his lips.

slow. thorough. like he doesn’t wanna waste a single drop. his eyes are half-lidded, flushed to the tips of his ears, lips shiny and swollen as he runs his tongue over them again—like he’s tasting you all over.

“fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, dazed. “you broke my mouth.”

you huff out something between a laugh and a moan, barely able to lift your hand to swat at him.

“’s your fault,” you mumble. “you didn’t stop.”

he grins, smug and soft at the same time, fingers brushing over the back of your thigh.

“couldn’t,” he says, voice rough and low. “you were makin’ the prettiest fuckin’ noises. thought i’d die if i didn’t make you come again.”

you groan, burying your face in the sheets, heat prickling behind your eyes from the aftershocks.

he leans over—just enough to press a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh.

“still fuckin’ drippin’,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “you’re gonna kill me, babe.”

Your were legs crossed, in the air, mouth wrapped around his cock. His fingers were in your cunt, moving, fingering you with so much strength that you kept lifting your hips off the bed to match it. 

Your lips were too busy working over him. spit dribbling down his lap, your hand wrapped around the base— fingers barely touching. 

He keeps telling you that you don’t have to take him fully, don’t have to force him down your throat— but you ignore him. Opting to prove that you can.

You just didn’t think it would be this hard.

You press down, throat working— a burn at the back of your throat but you didn’t care. Another harsh suck makes Remmick’s hips roll, his fingers curling inside of your cunt. 

“B-Baby— slow down.” He moaned, using his free hand to pull your hair back, making sure nothing gets in it. An impression of a gentleman if he wasn’t already making you choke. 

“D-Doing so good.” He praised, moaning softly,  watching as you tried to take him again. 

He inserts a third finger into your greedy pussy as a reward. Your hips grinding down onto his fingers with a desperate moan. A particular harsh suck makes his hips jolt, another one elicits the same reaction. 

You’ve done that every time he's hit that spot deep in your pussy, curling his fingers— a quick reaction that you didn’t realize you were doing…until now. 

You don’t have to voice it, he knows you notice when you suck him in again— same harsh tug that makes him whimper out loud. 

You pull off with a wet pop,  tongue quick to slip out and lick up the mess you made around him. Streaks of white dripping down like melted ice cream— cool and sweet on your tongue. 

He was flushed, red, tip swollen— ready to blow any minute now. 

He just needed a little more motivation. 

You dipped your head down once more, taking him in—  pushing down until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged. 

Tears slipped from your eyes, hips rutting down onto his fingers with renewed want— your moans vibrating against his skin. 

He didn’t want to come in your mouth, keep your pretty throat from being ruined (even if it already was) but your need to push him over the edge was too much. 

His hands tighten at the back of your head, his chest heaving. It was so hard to keep his hips down, impossible to control the urge but fuck, you were working him so well he couldn’t stop it. 

“W-Wait—baby— h-hold on— ” he gasped, trying to pull you off by the back of your head but it was too late. 

You held yourself there. Forcing your throat to stay wrapped around him— drowning yourself in him. 

The  loud sounds of your throat working around him send him over the edge. Your stomach lurched— pussy throbbing around his thick fingers, trying to pull him in deeper. . 

The  clench of your throat working, trying to pry him out pulls another burn. makes his body shake, hips finally rolling to get some form of relief. 

He comes like that, the taste of him drenching  your mouth— voice high and pitchy like a tea kettle going off. White coats your throat, sweet and salty— the perfect flavor of release. 

You finally pull back when his cock no longer throbs, milking him for all his worth. A wet smile spreads across your face— eyes glossy with tears. 

“Did I— do good?” You asked. throat sore, raspy— the need for praise jumping in your chest. 

“Y-Yeah.” He smiled. voice soft and warm— petting your head like a proud owner. 

“Ready for your turn?” He questioned, slipping another finger into your cunt. 

Four in total, you just had to have more. 

“Y-Yes, please.” You arched your back, lifting your hips up to put your knees on the bed. 

His fingers curled once more, pumping into your pussy with rapid speed. The perfect rhythm that’ll make you cream on him within a minute. 

“Good girl.”